


In a White Room with Black Curtains Is The Station

by dancinbutterfly



Category: Bruce Almighty (2003), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Just and Loving God, Gen, Humor, I am so sorry, Not to be taken seriously, Omg please dont be offended., PLEASE TAKE THIS AS THE JOKE ITS MEANT AS, The God(caps intended), light blasphemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Morgan Freeman-look-a-like smiles at them, his teeth even whiter than the whiteness of the room. He lifts his hands off the desk and smiles spreads his hands, palm up. “I am God.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a White Room with Black Curtains Is The Station

**Author's Note:**

> unapologetically apologized by this [gifset](http://feedthehex.tumblr.com/post/58845668281) mashup of Teen Wolf's white room and Bruce Almighty's meeting with God.

They splutter out of their metal tubs with choking gasps and stare around at the white rooms. It reminds Stiles of the intersect room from the pilot of Chuck actually. Only its silent here, no hum of medical machines inside or cars outside. There’s just the drip of water, and wet steps on the white floor - his, Scott’s Allison’s. They aren’t breathing. He should probably be more worried about that. He’s not. 

They cast glances at each other and Stiles finds that for the first time in his life his mind is quiet and words arent needed. They’re tied together, invisible roots so thin they are like spider silk tie them together and they move forward in tandem - black figures in a white void. 

Stiles doesn’t know what he’s expecting, exactly, something vaguely celtic in nature and tree-shaped since that’s what Lydia’s nematon depictions have been so far. What they reach is a an officious looking elderly black man in white suit seated behind a white table. He looks a hell of a lot like Morgan Freeman.

Stiles clears his throat and breathes for the first time. It feels alien, almost wrong, but he needs to do it to speak. “You know you look exactly like Morgan Freeman, right? Do you get that a lot?”

Allison giggles, half hysterical half real amusement, then covers her mouth with her fist. The Morgan Freeman-look-a-like just smiles at him. “I have been known to get that from time to time. Mr. Freeman seems to be a very approachable figure these days. Used to be that I went with George Burns for face to face meetings. Ah well, times change. For simplicity’s sake let’s just say that I am He who is called I Am,” he says with a shrug and a small smile. 

“You are? Who is that?” Scott asks.

“I am, was and will be.” The Morgan Freeman-look-a-like smiles at them, his teeth even whiter than the whiteness of the room. He lifts his hands off the desk and smiles spreads his hands, palm up. “I am God.”

Allison flat out snorts at that and rolls her eyes “Oh fuck this. Is this some kind of pre-trip test? Get past the illusion of grandeur to get to the nematon?”

“Allison,” Scott hisses, “You can’t say the F word to God!”

Morgan Freeman-God just smiled at her. “You know Allison, just because you’ve stopped believing me since your mother’s death doesn’t mean I’ve stopped believing in you. I can see the places you could be going, depending on the choices you make. Hundreds of places, all of them mighty impressive, young lady.”

That shocks Allison back into silence. Her mouth snaps shut, her teeth making a hard click. Scott looks like he wants to reach out and touch her to give comfort but he doesn’t. None of them move. None of them are breathing once again which for some reason seem to be the Morgan-Freeman-God’s signal to continue.

“To answer your question, no this part isnt a test. In fact, nothing in here is a test. I don’t see the point of testing people in here.” He waves at the great expanse of white that goes on forever as far as Stiles can tell. “The real tests are out there. The fact that you made the choice out there to come in is already on A+ in the grade book, notable enough that I thought I’d pop in for a classroom visit. I haven’t done one in an age.” 

“Geologic or galactic?” Stiles blurts, unable to stop himself because yes, he is the guy who will backtalk freaking God. That is the dude he’s going to be. What is wrong with him? He is going to get the shit smote out of him. Smitten? Now isn’t the time to conjugate smite. 

More important, why does he believe that this is God? He shouldn’t. He’s a believer but he’s also the group realist yet something deep down, the same thing that told him he was right about werewolves and magic and Matt being a bad guy just by knowing, told him this was the real deal. It was terrifying and comforting all at once. He wanted to cry a little. Or a Lot.

Morgan-Freeman-God gives them all another warm smile. It’s an Oscar winner smile. Million Dollar Baby got him the Academy Award for that smile. Stiles is not freaking out. He is going to keep calm and save his massive freak-outs for later in case he’s wrong and this isn’t God. Or worse, just in case he’s right and this really is.

“So what do you want from us?” Scott asks, ever the brave one, the noble leader. His heart has stopped beating but thats okay. He can feel it swell with pride anyway. He’d be honored to be the chatty Aaron to Scott’s chosen Moses any damn day. “Are you where we’re supposed to get the nematon darkness from?”

“The darkness?” Morgan-Freeman-God repeats. “The world doesn’t have more than it’s share of darkness for you? The things I left that go bump in the night and the people who waste the free will I gave them to do harm aren’t dark enough? You think I’d add to it? No, I’ve done my damage for the moment.” He sits back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest. “Maybe later. We’ll see.”

Scott didn’t seem happy with that answer. He always does like things clear and laid out for him. “Then what do we do now?”

“Now you go searching. I came to see what this year’s freshmen class was like and you came here for a reason your own reason. Get to it. Use that free will you were blessed with and the good sense I gave a goose. With all the other skills you children have it should be more than enough providing you make the right choices.”

Stiles frowns. “And that’s it?”

Morgan-Freeman-God holds open his hands palms up. “That’s it.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s not super helpful.”

He sighs Stiles’s name, his full name, his entire birth name including his middle name and shakes his head. “I am the Lord your God and I am always sure. I work in mysterious ways and it is not your place to know how the universe works at this juncture. Don’t run towards those questions too fast, son. You can’t force them and you have clear answers until the next time we talk which, if you are careful and a little less self-sacrificing hopefully won’t be for a long time. I know your father would appreciate the wait for you to gain the insight.” 

Stiles flinches back and edges closer to Scott. He wonders if religious experiences are always so frightening and so gentle at the same time. After this he could go forever and not find out. 

“Sorry, sir, but you aren’t what we, what I was expecting,” Scott says dipping his head in an actual bow. Scott’s dorkiness saving the day once again. 

Morgan-Freeman-God smiles at him. “You’re exactly what I was expecting, Scott. Well done. That said, I believe you have a mission.” 

_And God said, “Now, off you go.” And they went._


End file.
